


Later That Night

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Series: Not Wired to be Normal [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Come Eating, Daddy Kink, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Parent/Child Incest, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 19:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12175587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: Later that same night, FP wakes up to find a dream—his nightmare—come true.





	Later That Night

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of the original kinkmeme prompt, but from FP's POV. Inspired in part by an article where Skeet talked about his chest scar.

The growing pressure in his bladder was what finally brought FP to full wakefulness. At first he was dreaming of oceans and pools, then suddenly he was lurching to his feet, heading to the bathroom. The uncurtained windows let in more than enough light for him to miss most of the major obstacles. He fumbled for the light, his fingers feeling like they were wrapped in cotton, before he gave up. If he missed, he missed. No one was going to yell at him for it. One of the advantages of being alone. 

FP fumbled at his fly, surprised a bit to find his zip already lowered. Reaching inside, his dick was tacky with half-dried lube. He squinted in the darkness, trying to figure out just what he'd missed. He'd been at Fred's house, reliving the good old days of losing his job and watching his family fall apart. He'd started drinking, then... made it home... 

In a flash, he remembered dark hair and tight heat and a breathless voice moaning, "Daddy, daddy."

"Joaquin," he said quietly to his dick. It twitched in his grasp, then spurted piss into the vague vicinity of the bowl. The little cock-hungry shit must have snuck in while he was sleeping. FP idly stroked the last dribble out. Fuck, ever since the kid learned to take a dick, he'd been insatiable. The sheriff's kid, while experienced and enthusiastic, wasn't as available as much as Joaquin liked. Not that he minded. The way that dark-haired pretty boy called him Daddy, begged to suck his dick, damn, it was nice to have him available.

Little shit must have rode him hard and put him away wet, and all without waking him. 

FP didn't bother tucking himself away. He just lurched out of the small cubicle and stumbled down the hall towards the bedroom, his jeans falling down his ass as he walked. The bedroom door was open, so he propped himself in the threshold to finish wriggling out of his pants. It was a bit of chore, but when he finally was upright again, he could see someone sleeping in his bed.

The thought made him smile, a little growl growing in his throat. The dark head shifted on the pillow, messed-up hair looking short and wavy in his sleep. A slender shoulder, wide but under-muscled, swelled above the blanket, looking pale and soft in the darkness. He still felt pleasantly drunk, hours away from a hangover still, but his dick was starting to pay attention. 

FP slid off his flannel shirt and pulled the Henley over his head. It was crusty and stiff in areas, and he was quite a bit ripe from a long day of hard work, but Joaquin wasn't one to complain. They once spent a whole weekend fucking, drinking, and fucking some more, and by the end, the kid had been licking his pits like a kitten. 

When FP pulled back the blanket, he saw that Joaquin was completely naked. His smooth back shifted, and he made a noise of discontent at the cool air on his skin. FP crawled into the mattress behind him, molding himself to Joaquin's back. "Shhh," he breathed, nuzzling the back of the kid's neck. "Daddy's here." He wrapped his fingers around the slim hips, pulling the plump ass back against his slowly swelling cock. 

Joaquin purred out a noise, shifting and rubbing back. "Daddy?"

His voice was sleep-muffled and soft, just a whisper of sound. God, when the kid was like this, he almost sounded like Jughead. A surge of pleasure squeezed his balls, pumping more blood into his cock. It'd been years since Juggy last called him Daddy, but in his fantasies it was always the same. Jughead, grown and beautiful and full of lust, playing innocent even as he said the most perverted things, begging for Daddy to fuck him. 

It was an old fantasy, something he'd locked away under alcohol, drugs. It was shameful for a man to want to fuck his son, but not as shameful as to actually do it. Once Jughead started developing, giving hints of the gorgeous young man he'd one day be, he found he couldn't stop fantasizing about that day, one day, when it could just the two of them. So he drank, pushed the thoughts away, and felt so much guilt when he'd jerk off to the memory of the scent of his sweet little boy's hair.

He thought he'd have get himself locked up in order to keep his hands off Jughead, or else he'd give in, just one day push too hard and TAKE what he wanted. Instead, Joaquin—pretty, dirty Joaquin—came into his life, close enough in looks and desperate enough to pretend. And old enough he didn't have to feel as guilty about taking him again and again and again.

Joaquin moaned, shifting onto his stomach to lay his back bare, opening himself to whatever his Daddy wanted. FP rubbed his hand over the soft curve of Joaquin's ass, thinking of all he has done--and will do--to this boy. But first, he had to remind him who is in charge. FP flattened his hand, pulling back to land a swift slap to one generous cheek. Joaquin yelped, his spine snapping as his hips dug into the mattress, moving away from the sharp touch. FP rubbed his palm over the stinging mark before smacking him again, even harder.

"Ow," Joaquin breathed, his hips twisting. 

"Naughty boy, sneaking up on Daddy while he slept, fucking yourself on his cock." He squeezed the reddened skin, then rained down several slaps, delighting in the way the boy heated up under his touch, his noises switching between pleasure and shocked pain. "Such a slut you couldn't wait to get fucked?" He smacked him again, feeling the tingle in his palm. "Answer your Daddy."

"Yes, Daddy." His voice was soft and muffled by the pillow as Joaquin buried his face, his sides heaving as he breathed. 

It was tempting to turn on a light, to see just how red and hot his boy was getting, but it would have meant leaving his side for even just a moment. He satisfied himself with crawling up the bed to bury his face in his hair, inhaling deeply. Joaquin had taken to using Jughead's shampoo, giving another layer to their play as FP closed his eyes and imagined his boy, his real boy, shuddering beneath him. He nuzzled until his mouth brushed one pointy ear, the skin blood-hot under his lips. He restrained himself from biting--not yet, anyway, this was punishment, after all--and just licked the soft rim. 

"Did Daddy give you permission to fuck his cock?"

The dark head shook beneath him, the soft hair tickling against his beard. FP reached down, snapping another sharp slap against the burning skin. A tiny noise escaped Joaquin's mouth, his whole body shuddering against FP. 

"No, Daddy."

FP nodded his head, letting just the edge of his teeth scrape against the tip of his ear, smiling as his hand explored the smooth skin of his back, rubbed down his sides, felt the way the eager boy humped the mattress. "No, Daddy didn't give his permission. You were a very naughty, greedy slut. Are you sorry?"

"Sorry!"

FP laughed, low and dark, his hand curving over his hips to tease against the edge of his pubic hair. "What?"

"Sorry, Daddy," Joaquin whispered, his hips raising in invitation, his face turning just a little to try to nuzzle into FP, hungry for affection.

"No," he said, pulling back to be just out of reach. "No kisses for naughty boys." Instead, FP scooted down, rubbing his chin against his shoulder, kissing his way down Joaquin's spine. He pulled his hand away from the tempting curve of Joaquin's cock, sliding around to squeeze the heated flesh of his ass. He kissed down to the soft space where the globes just began to swell. He rubbed his chin into the base of his spine, letting his lips skip down over the bruising flesh and the dip of his crack. 

He slid his hand down, pressing into the darkness between his cheeks. He could feel the remains of lube smeared over his puffy hole, the tacky wetness just barely easing the way as his fingers tested the stretched sphincter. 

"Mmmm, good boy. All ready for Daddy?" 

The dark head nodded, cutting off another moan as FP bit into one ripe cheek. He pulled back, shifting Joaquin's thighs open so he could get close. In the shattered streetlight seeping through the windows, he could almost see the recently used hole, wet with semen. As he pulled the kid open, gaping the hole slightly, more semen dribbled out. "Damn, how many men did you fuck?"

"Mm, just you, Daddy." His voice was muffled by the pillow, but it didn't matter if it was true. Joaquin was a sweet little slut, and that was what FP liked about him. He'd fucked half the club and still came back for more.

"Just me?" FP smiled into his skin, sliding down to nuzzle the lightly-furred skin near his asshole. He gave a quick lick, wrinkling his nose at the taste of the lube. It wasn't their usual brand, but hell, he'd eaten worse. Taking a deep breath, he dove in, licking and sucking against the wet flesh, wriggling his tongue inside to chase the taste of come until he was satisfied. The flesh was tender, hot against his tongue, well used. He dug his nails into Joaquin's sore cheeks, pulling him open to make it easier to lick him clean without rubbing his skin off with his beard.

Once he was satisfied, he sat back, smiling down. "Boy, either you're a liar, or I shot the biggest load of my life." When Joaquin didn't say anything, he spanked one jiggly cheek. The boy shuddered on the bed, burying his head into the pillows while pushing his ass up, begging for more. 

Instead of giving in to the greedy slut, he slipped two fingers into his hole, pulling him open and testing his looseness. The pressure jolted Joaquin, his head raising from the pillows to give out a tiny, broken wail. "Still so tight. Maybe you were telling the truth." He fucked his fingers in and out a few times, watching his fingers disappear inside the tender, well-fucked hole. "Think you deserve more lube this time?"

"Daddy?"

"It's so damn tempting to just mount you like this, boy, and fuck us both to sleep." He pumped his fingers a few more times while digging the lube out of the trash on the nightstand. He knocked over a couple cans of that crap some of the Serpents preferred, retrieving the sticky bottle. "You just don't know how to say no to cock, do you?" He slicked up his fingers, thrusting them in and twisting to coat the tender walls. "That's okay. That's what Daddy's here for." 

He pulled at the bottom edge of Joaquin's hole, holding him open as he dribbled a long, thick stream of lube directly into him. The kid shook his head, his internal muscles clenching against the cooler feel of the lube. It pushed out a thick glob which he just swiped up with his fingers, fucking it back inside. "There you go, nice and slick now." He folded his hand, pushing the tapered ends of four fingers inside, forcing the kid to the edge of his limits. With his free hand, he rubbed the kid's slower back. "Shh, shh, just relax. Daddy's here." They sunk in deeper, and FP twisted them, stretching him open. 

Fuck, that was enough. He squeezed the bottle into his hand, jerking himself to full hardness quickly before he thrust inside. "Mmmm, tight," he sighed as he hitched his hips, seating himself more completely. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to picture Jughead completely in his mind. The pale skin, dark eyes, sweet smile. The little snarl he gave when FP tried to hug him, the way his fingers dug into his skin when he finally gave in. The way he imagined Jughead would be fully grown, strong but sleek, like his father, hungry like his father. Wanting his father.

Beneath him, Joaquin shuddered and moaned, clenching around him, pushing back. Focusing on that mental image, of his beautiful boy and the delicious man he would become, he pulled out and then fucked back in, hitting deeply, making the boy gasp. "Yeah, son. Take it."

"Daddy. Daddy!" 

FP threaded his fingers through the kid's hair, pulling slightly as he steadily fucked him open. His hair was soft, missing the usual sticky product Joaquin liked to use. He ran his hand down to his neck, pinning him to the mattress. "Just relax, boy. Open your hole. Yeah, like that. Just a hole to fuck. Take it, son."

Joaquin's hands spasmed, thin fingers clenching and jerking in the dirty sheets as the sweetest moans spilled from his lips. "Please, Daddy," his muffled voice broke into a keening wail when FP hit him just right. He focused on that spot, grinding his hips against Joaquin's ass, his hand sliding down to press his wrist into the mattress. 

"Come on Daddy's cock. That's all you're getting, slut. All you need." FP shifted, arching over his boy to tease his sweet spot before sinking back in, obliterating it. Joaquin keened, pushing his ass back into the thrusts until he was shaking, coming, crying out "Daddy" like it was killing him.

FP fixed the image of his son in his mind, looking down at the shadowed back, seeing the little dusting of moles and the glittering of sweat and he could swear he could fucking smell Jughead as his own orgasm punched through his balls, spilling into the young body beneath him. 

"Dad?"

FP's head was swimming, his ears stuffed with cotton as he shuddered and withdrew. He smacked Joaquin's ass as he shifted to the side of the bed. "Good boy," he praised, unable to stop himself from squeezing one fat cheek. He slid his fingers down, rubbing against his wet, hot hole. "Such a good boy for Daddy." He wiped the lube off his fingers on Joaquin's lower back and rolled onto his back, catching his breath. The trailer park lights kept the room in a perpetual twilight, impossible to tell the time. His rubbed his stomach, contemplating whether he wanted to sleep, or try to work up a third go.

Joaquin rolled over, curling deep into FP's chest, his face buried into skin. He was wet with sweat, his breathing ragged, his arms squeezing tight around him. Thin, strong fingers dug in with almost bruising strength. 

"Fuck, kid, you're gonna kill me." 

Joaquin moved, his nose pressing into his breastbone, nuzzling into the hair around his scar, tracing the curves of his snake tattoo. He moved down, kissing the skin, his hips moving with purpose. It felt good, until the kid hit the little bump under his skin, where twisted metal still held bones together. It felt like a deep stab, worse than any knife blade, as sharp agony pierced his chest. 

"Ow, fuck!" It'd been years since anyone had touched him there, and Joaquin had learned long ago to not even try. FP smacked the side of his head roughly, more hurt that the kid forgot than the actual pain. 

"Sorry, Dad," Jughead said, his face pinched with worry as he braced himself up away from FP's chest. He looked incredibly young, like the little curious boy who had a weird obsession with that hard spot on his father's chest, unable to resist touching it the rare times his father allowed him to cuddle. 

FP squinted into the dappled darkness, closing his sex-and-booze blurry eyes and forcing them open wide. No matter what he did, Joaquin's face didn't materialize through the very clear face of his son. "Jughead?"

His son blinked, rubbing his messy hair as he wiggled around in top of him, looking for a better position. "I forgot."

The exact voice, the same wince when he'd accidentally touch as a kid, only now his voice was deep and rough with sex and sleep. Cold terror wiped away any lingering intoxication, and FP flipped Jughead off his chest. He skittered backwards, overly aware of his nakedness as he scrambled off the bed, fell among the detritus on the floor. The fuck... the fuck did he just do? What did he do?

Oh, god, oh, god, it wasn't. He didn't. Please no. 

"Dad?" Jughead looked so small, so scared, like he hadn't been in years. Naked and still glistening with sweat his pale skin stood out against the shadows, screaming the truth of what he'd done. What he'd most feared. 

"Fuck."

"Daddy?"

"Don't!" FP's gut clenched, and he wanted to pretend it was the drink, or sickness at what he'd just done, but goddammit he was getting hard. "Don't call me--" he pushed his hand over his mouth, this time choking on his words. He pushed his fingers in his mouth, biting down until his teeth ached.

Oh, fuck, he'd done it. He'd raped his son, and it had been so fucking good. His biggest fantasy, his dream. His fucking nightmare. He pushed his fingers into his mouth until he gagged, acid pouring between his lips as he coughed and sobbed on the ground. 

"Dad?"

"Go! Get out!" FP gagged again, but nothing would come out. He was empty, wrong, and damned. 

He could hear the floor creak as Jughead struggled out the door, hitting the wall in his haste. There were noises, gasped sobs, the rustling of clothes. FP stayed in the spot on the floor until the trailer rocked with with the force of the door closing. He stayed as the sun rose, and the room brightened, until all he could see was sex-stained sheets and he couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.

Slowly, FP crawled his way to the living room. He found a half-full bottle of whiskey stashed under the corner of the couch and he held onto it like a lifeline. The glass was smooth, and he fumbled getting the lid off. The first sweet splash of booze on his tongue burned like a purifying fire before he guzzled down as much as he could. FP stayed there, on the floor, and drank himself into oblivion.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really liked the idea that one of the reasons that FP drinks is because he's so fucking torn up inside about being attracted to his son. He knows he's trash, but he never wanted to be THAT kind of trash.
> 
> Edited to add reference to FP's tattoo, because hot damn I can’t let that mental image go.


End file.
